Ascension
by NyktaVykta
Summary: The life of Brad Crawford from infancy to modern day. How many times must one prove their worth before they finally feel it themselves? Yaoi in later chapters. BradSchu. Not one for the kiddies.


Nykta is somewhat ashamed of this fic. Oo It's going to be an epic, and she doesn't feel she can really do the Fishy any justice. ;; She owns nothing.

Nykta luffs j00, and asks politely that you review if you have the time.

The Ascension of Brad Crawford: Part one

"But Evelyn, it's for your own good. He's a fine man, this Crawford."

"But Daddy, I've met him. He struck me as nothing more than pretentious!"

"He has money, dear. Old money - "

"From the American railroad, Daddy! He's not even in business!"

"Evelyn, he is. He works for me. And he will make a fine husband for you."

Fairly sobbing, the young woman of slight frame abandoned her chair and exited the cherry wood furnished dining room. At her departure, she left behind an old, grey-haired man in a pressed black suit, and an elderly woman of about the same countenance. These were the parents of Evelyn James. The man, one Mr. William Bradley James, sat with his head in his hands, massaging his temples. He was a business person, a very successful C.E.O. of the McClellan and James Defense Corporation. The business was old, and deeply rooted in American government. Needless to say, the dealings conducted by those at the corporation were more than often dodgy, and not anything the McClellan family or the James family would want anyone to know about. Which was precisely why the old man was forced to marry off his daughter to someone he trusted, rather than someone she did. He couldn't risk any information being leaked.

With only a nod to his saddened wife, the elderly man stood, smoothing his suit out as he left the dimly lit dining room. He loved his little girl, truly, he did. She was a kind and generous woman, only nineteen, with a good mind. A pity, it was, that she couldn't handle the business. But, this Crawford man, he was really a promise to the industry. Some how, he always seemed to know what the next move of every company would be. Moreover, he was brilliant in the stock market. It was almost like he had some sort of foresight, enough so to help him up the ladder of success at an amazing rate. This made him a perfect match for the business….but William wasn't so sure about a match for Evelyn. Even if they weren't suited for each other so well, he figured, they would grow to love one another. After all, he and his wife had…more or less.

Status-symbolic Italian leather shoes padded softly on the fading rose carpet. The corridor, all coated in dark red wood polished to a glossy shine, was oppressive in and of itself. The sconces that hung on the walls shone with dim brilliance, and high lighted the ancestral paintings decorating the hall. The cream colored molding at the carved ceiling had faded over the years, giving way to a simple white hue in places. The air was full of dust. And yet, the man in the black suit seemed unaffected by the melancholy atmosphere of slowly vanishing grandeur.

William knocked on his daughter's door softly, and sighed. He disliked knowing that she was upset, and even more that he had caused it. He heard soft sobs, and a nearly whispered, "Come in." He did. His little girl was seated on her bed, hands covering her face. Tears fell from her blue eyes at an alarming rate. Glimmering in the dim light, locks of curled, vibrant orange fell to her mid back. Her narrow frame shook with hardly suppressed weeping.

Nineteen years ago, the old man had been depressed to hear that his wife had given birth to a female child. Even more distressing was the fact that she became infertile due to an infection afterward. Social norms had demanded that the couple stay married, and Mr. James had resolved to marry his daughter off. Even though he had known it all these years, seeing his darling girl upset over such a banal fate was heartbreaking. The graying man spoke quietly.

"Dear…Evie….Please don't be so troubled…"

"How can I not be so, father? I will never have any chance to be with any man I might fall in love with!"

"How are you sure that you will not fall in love with Mr. Crawford?"

"I just know, father…"

The man hesitated. Perhaps she was correct, but there was no turning back. He sighed, and sat beside her on the silk-duvet covered bed. The smooth silver and azure fabric was soaked with tears near his daughters skirts, where she was leaning. He brought a gentle hand to rest on her shoulder.

"In these situations, dear…it is not frowned upon for one to…discreetly, of course,…seek outside relationships."

At that moment, Evelyn brought her heart-shaped face from her delicate hands and gaped at her father's words. Did this mean that the whole time he had been married he had been seeking outlets for his needs other than her mother? She gasped, covering her mouth with her fingertips in a ladylike gesture. Tears still slid from the corners of the young woman's clear blue eyes, staining her cheeks with crystal paths.

"Father! You don't mean to say…"

"Evelyn, please consider it. You know that divorce is no option."

"Father…Do excuse me…but you are cruel! Absolutely cruel!"

With those words spoken, the red head fell to the bed, wailing even more intensely than she had before, from shock and from resignation to her fate. Her father hung his head, searching his mind for something to say, some way to comfort his little girl. But the fact of the matter was, there was no consoling someone with such a legitimate reason to be disconsolate. So as he was accustomed to doing, he stood, and spoke a few final words before leaving the chamber.

"The wedding will be in three weeks. The tailor will be here tomorrow to make a dress for you."

Evelyn could only cry.

Naturally, the ceremony was grand. Evelyn James, soon to be Evelyn Crawford, was absolutely stunning in her dress. The entire piece was made from silk, with lace and gossamer trim. Fitted sleeves, a high collar, and overly full skirts added to the Victorian theme of the wedding, along with the red roses and white lilies that she had chosen to carry. Of course, even when decked in sparkling ivory attire, the young girl didn't resemble the average blushing bride. Her blue eyes were sad and tired, and her cheeks red from crying. This day, she was certain, would mark the end of her life.

At the back of the stone and cherry wood cathedral, Evelyn's mother placed the chosen veil on the crown of Evelyn's head, careful not to damage the carefully coiled knots and braids put into her daughter's carrot-colored hair. The gauzy material fell over the bride's face, and added even more of a ghost-like impression. One last kiss, and the organ situated near the altar began to pervade throughout the sanctuary. Evelyn stiffly took her father's arm, and began her walk down the aisle. Waiting for his bride was Jonathan Crawford, donning a normal tuxedo, as all grooms would. His black hair was combed neatly, as it was for business, and his glasses were set straight on the bridge of his pointed nose. If not for the look of arrogance he had fixed on his face, Evelyn might have thought of him as attractive.

The ceremony was mostly a blur through Evelyn's tear clouded eyes. She was aware of kneeling at the alter, and taking communion with her soon-to-be husband. Next, they took their respective vows. Then, the cleric, dressed in his white collar and standard black robes, uttered the words that would ultimately end every aspiration and hope that Evelyn had ever had.

"…Man and Wife. You may kiss the bride."

A golden shackle was slid onto Evelyn's delicate ring finger, and the young man named Crawford embraced her with a cold, practiced kiss to follow. There was no emotion, no passion. For this man, the red headed woman was sure, marriage was only another business deal. His lips were cool, and dry, nearly as much as his personality. He held Evelyn with the same regard one would carry a package, perhaps, or a family pet. The young woman stayed her tears for a moment, if only to provide a good picture for the books. Though it seemed like an eon to her, the two quickly parted, and, hand-in-hand for show, made their way to the waiting limousine.

Their route took them to the airport, and from there to Paris, where their honeymoon was spent. Needless to say, they didn't stay together while there. Jonathan visited bars and numerous shady businesses, and Evelyn shopped. They only met at night, and even then, there was nothing entertaining about their company to one another. On the fourth night, they met earlier than usual. Both had come home from dining, and both were agitated for various reasons.

Evelyn sat contentedly on the sofa of the suite, watching French television with little to no interest. She could speak very limited French, but it beat going to the same old sites over and over again. Suddenly, the door to the room swung open, causing the small red head to jump some what. It was Jonathan. Quietly, he shut the door behind himself, and closed the lock. Then he turned to Evelyn, already setting about unbuttoning his white dress shirt.

"Are you on any birth control?"

"I beg your pardon!"

"You're not. Get in bed I'll be there in a moment."

Evelyn stood, sky hued eyes sparkling with rage and disbelief. How could someone, supposedly a gentle man, be so crude? And demanding, none the less. No strawberries or champagne, not even a kiss on the cheek. Just a stark, flat command. Small fists clenched, and the girl hissed a reply.

"I will not. I'm not ready."

"Alright. Then I'll do it here. I need you pregnant."

The argument ended there. Simply put, he was right. There was no arguing that the entire purpose of their marriage was to produce a son worthy enough to carry on the James family business. Evelyn hung her head, and silently entered the bed room, gingerly removing articles of clothing until she was completely nude. Then, she crawled beneath the covers of the king sized bed, tears forming in her eyes. All of her life, or sense she was aware of the love making side of marriage, she had imagined a gentle, affectionate scenario for herself. But as she saw the man she had been forced to marry enter the room and shut the lights off, she knew that her first time would be nowhere near that. She was right. Just as the kiss in the church had been purely without emotion, so was their consummation. Jonathan paid little mind to her wincing and crying, and simply carried out his duty with mechanical precision. Once he was finished, he nodded, and left the room to shower. Luckily for Evelyn, that was all it took. Within three weeks, she was nauseous in the mornings. Within five, her abdomen was swollen, and her breasts most tender.

Nine months passed, and saw Evelyn turn twenty. Her womb had grown to such a size as to give her the expected shape for a heavily pregnant woman. Although she didn't appreciate the morning sickness or inability to fit into her old clothes, she was glad that she would most likely never have to share her bed with that wretched son of a bitch Crawford again. He rarely spoke to her, and if he did, it was to threaten her. He told her to keep his son safe, and to eat like a normal human being, rather than a bird. She would only growl, and occasionally bicker with him. It had only escalated into violence…every time. But he had to hold off for fear of damaging his unborn child.

And then, one early morning in the summer, Bradley Crawford was born. In a hospital room, with no complications. His birth was a common one, and his health normal. All around, everything about the child was banal. Well, save his precognitive, abusive father. And depressed mother. Both Jonathan and Evelyn knew that the child would never be completely average, if only because of his home.

But even with Jonathan's precognitive ability, the two of them together could have never predicted just how unusual their son's life would be.

They could not have foreseen, for example, how brilliant he would be.

Or how utterly good-natured.

Nor the other red head that would come into his life.

But most of all, they could not see what he would become.

Sort of cliffy. Thanks for reading, even if it sucked.


End file.
